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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24220207">Better Than Your Memories</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Awkward Sex, Bottom Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Crossdressing, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Felix Tries to Spice Things Up, Fluff and Angst, Insecurity, Jealousy, Lingerie, M/M, Marathon Sex, Misunderstandings, Multiple Orgasms, Past Sylvain Jose Gautier/Everyone, Prompt Fill, Top Sylvain Jose Gautier, Undernegotiated Kink, bad bdsm, with disastrous results</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:27:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,596</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24220207</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylvain and Felix are happily married and falling deeper in love each day, but when a little wine leads them on a tipsy trip down memory lane, Felix realizes just how boring their sex life is compared to Sylvain's salacious past. He decides to give Sylvain everything he had and then some—even if he has no clue how to go about it.</p><p>A FE3H Kinkmeme prompt fill.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>187</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous, FE3H Kink Meme</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Memory Lane</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on <a href="https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=654044#cmt654044">this kinkmeme prompt</a>: Sylvain and Felix are happily married and everything’s going great.</p><p>Until one evening they both get tipsy and they reminisce about their academy days and Sylvain tells Felix about sex with his exes and the large-titty girls he was into (aka the women Sylvain can A support).</p><p>Felix has 0 previous sexual or romantic experience prior to Sylvain and he now he wonders if Sylvain might regret being with someone awkward and “boring” like Felix and feels like he doesn’t measure up to Sylvain’s past sexual conquests in looks so he decides he needs to rectify that ASAP.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s good to be home. Felix raises his wine glass toward the ceiling. “To peace.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To peace!” Sylvain echoes, clinking his own against it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve done a lot of celebrating since signing peace treaties with the now-independent clans of Sreng, but after all the stuffy, formal affairs in the capital, they’re both ready to dispense with the decorum and cut loose. Alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain pulled a cask of the good wine for the occasion, the stuff they haven’t broken into since their wedding. One glass becomes two, then three, until he and Felix aren’t fit for proper company anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who would have thought the biggest disaster to ever join the Officer’s Academy would become a diplomat?” Sylvain says. “And they said I was only good at chasing skirts.” He pours himself another glass of wine and Felix steals the first sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding?” Felix counters. “Even then, you were charming pants off left and right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain takes his payment for the stolen wine in the form of a kiss. “Except for the only pants that mattered.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you didn’t exactly make it obvious, but you won me over in the end,” says Felix, refilling his own goblet. “Besides, I was too busy training to notice. And you were…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Working out my unresolved crest issues with every maiden I could get my hands on?” Sylvain shakes his head. “I was so pathetic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix might have said the same thing back then, but now, he drapes an arm around his husband’s shoulders and says, “You were hurting. At least you didn’t go around trying to fight everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, Felix isn’t exactly proud of his past, either. Especially not the way he treated Sylvain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least that prepared you for war!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, maybe your flirting prepared you for negotiating,” Felix says. He plants a big, messy smack on Sylvain’s cheek like he only does when he’s drunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain grins and strokes his beard thoughtfully. “I don’t know about the flirting, but I definitely talked my way out of some sticky situations. Like the time Seteth caught me and Mercedes by the stairs under the Monastery…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait.” Felix jerks back in his seat. “You and Mercedes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He prefers not to think about Sylvain’s promiscuous past, but it’s easier when he writes those girls off as faceless crest chasers. Mercedes is neither. She attended their wedding. She sent Felix a letter just last week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Sylvain scratches the back of his neck and takes a big drink. “I used to get my face all up in her boobs all the time. Those things were big enough to suffocate a guy! And the time Seteth caught us, I...oh, you probably don’t wanna hear this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Felix does. It’s morbid, because every detail drops his stomach a little lower (it feels like it’s somewhere around his knees at the moment), but he needs to hear. He puts his goblet down and says, “Tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I was on top of her, right?” Sylvain downs the rest of his wine and goes for another pour. “And I’ve got my dick squished between her tits, in and out. I’m just going for it. Mercie was up for anything, I tell you. And right when I’m about to blow my load, Seteth walks in! Man, nothing ever killed a boner so fast!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain laughs but Felix just stares. Fucking someone’s tits? He can’t even picture it. Then again, he’s never been with a woman. Or anyone but Sylvain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sylvain closes his eyes to take a drink, Felix sneaks a glance at his own chest. It’s...fine, and Sylvain has never complained. Quite the opposite—Sylvain loves to massage his muscles, kiss his skin, play with his nipples—but Felix’s chest isn’t big enough to fuck. Does Sylvain miss doing that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddess, and you wanna talk about tits…” Sylvain goes on. Felix doesn’t, but he snaps his attention back to Sylvain. “Dorothea, wow, now that was a pair. She used to let me suck on her nipples like a damn baby.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did she?” Felix manages to say, despite the rush of bile when he opens his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, and when she wanted it, she wanted it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They’d bounce all over the place when we fucked. There was this one time in the classroom...” Sylvain finishes with a whistle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he slept with Dorothea, too. Felix doesn’t know why he’s surprised. The two of them used to spend a lot of time together. Felix always thought they were commiserating since they had so much in common, but apparently, they were having sex. Felix feels like a blushing virgin again, and not in a sexy, roleplay way. Nothing on him jiggles, and he and Sylvain almost never fuck hard. Sylvain’s always so gentle with him in bed, like he’s afraid Felix is going to break. And that’s the only place they have sex: in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It always made Felix feel cherished before, but now he wonders—is Sylvain careful because he thinks Felix can’t take it? Is his mind wandering back to his wild days to escape the monotony of monogamous sex? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that ass…” Sylvain mimics squeezing something huge with both hands. “She only let me stick it in once, and she tied me up and blindfolded me first, but it was worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tied up and blindfolded? Felix’s limbs go cold. Sylvain’s into bondage? The closest he’s ever come with Felix is holding his wrists down on the mattress. Is that what Sylvain wants? Blindfolds? Ropes? Chains? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Felix doesn’t have to peek at his own ass to know Dorothea’s got him beat there, too. His butt’s so flat it hurts to sit on hard chairs. Do his bones poke Sylvain when they have sex? Does Sylvain wish Felix had a bigger ass? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I never told you about the Professor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix chokes on his breath. “The Professor?!” he splutters. His heart can’t take this, but he doesn’t tell Sylvain to stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was right after we got back to Garreg Mach, after the anniversary of the millennium festival. She and I were both pretty, well, upset.” Sylvain’s eyes linger on him then, somber, but he shakes it off and adds, “We must have done it eight times that night. Every position we could think of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eight?! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Felix feels faint. Up until now, Felix’s idea of an adventurous position was sitting on Sylvain’s lap. He can’t even think of eight positions. And the time he and Sylvain did it twice in one night, Felix barely made it through the second round. Sylvain had seemed totally worn out and blissful after, too—was it all an act? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck, I forgot she used her magic on me,” Sylvain goes on. He runs a hand over his lower back. “I still have the scar, but it was exactly what I needed at the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More proof Sylvain likes pain. Not once has he asked Felix for any of that. He must assume Felix can’t handle it. Does Sylvain even enjoy sex with Felix? Why doesn’t Sylvain get drunk and wax poetic about fucking him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix’s heart sinks through the floor. All these stories have one thing in common: women. Felix isn’t Sylvain’s first man, but Sylvain definitely has a preference—huge breasts, soft skin, and bouncy asses. Things Felix can’t offer him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Man, seems like all that stuff happened in another lifetime,” says Sylvain. When he leans in to kiss Felix, all Felix can smell is wine and his own impending sick. “Thanks for letting me talk about it. It’s nice to remember how far I’ve come from the mess I used to be.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” is all Felix can say. He stopped drinking way before Sylvain but he feels weak and wasted. Worthless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain must be bored with him—bored with his body, bored with the three positions he can handle, bored of the soft, simple sex they have, probably not as often as Sylvain wants… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Sylvain asks, squeezing Felix’s hand. “You don’t look so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just tired,” Felix lies. But from everything Sylvain just told him, Felix never looks good. Not compared to what Sylvain’s used to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s get you to bed,” Sylvain says, though he’s the one who needs help standing. Felix supports him all the way to their room, his legs moving automatically, just because Sylvain needs them to. Sylvain laughs—another knife to the gut—and says, “We’re gonna pay for this tomorrow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he can laugh. He must be feeling great now that he’s gotten all that off his chest, now that Felix knows the truth. Or maybe he’s laughing because Felix is pathetic next to all the exciting women he’s had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stumble into bed and Sylvain goes out like a light, but Felix’s mind reels on. How could someone like Sylvain settle for a boring stiff like Felix? How could he settle for anyone at all when he’s had everyone?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There has to be something Felix can do, something to keep him from leaving. And that’s when it hits him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just because he’s never done any of that stuff before doesn’t mean he can’t start now. He can learn how to dominate Sylvain, he can use magic on him, tie him up, slap him around. The very idea makes him recoil but he just has to get used to it. He can train himself to be insatiable, just like Sylvain used to be. Like he probably still is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix can’t give himself tits or an ass, but he can be more feminine. He’ll figure something out. And he can be more spontaneous. More adventurous. More aggressive. That one’s easy. He can start right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He climbs onto Sylvain and pins him to the bed like they’re brawling. Kisses him hard and demanding. It’s the total opposite of his usual approach to foreplay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Sylvain snorts himself awake. “Felix? What’s wrong?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Felix growls. He snags Sylvain’s lower lip between his teeth. “I’m horny. I wanna fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” Sylvain looks genuinely sad, and any arousal Felix had faked pops like a bubble. “I’m so sorry, Fe, but I’ve got major whiskey dick, and my head hurts like a bitch. Can you fly solo tonight? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lump forms in Felix’s throat. He nods and rolls off so Sylvain won’t notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Treat yourself real good for me,” Sylvain mumbles before squeezing his hand and passing out again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Felix has never felt less like jerking off in his life. It’s the first time Sylvain has ever turned him down for sex, so it must be related to tonight. His memories are just so good, Felix can’t compare even when he tries. Tears sting his eyes as Sylvain snores next to him. He even sounds bored in his sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix won’t allow it. He won’t lose the only person he’s ever loved, not when he has the power to change. Failing tonight just means he needs to try harder tomorrow. Those girls were good, but he’s better. Felix has never backed down from a challenge before, and the stakes have never been higher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Determination dries his tears, and he turns to face his husband. Sylvain’s eyelashes are long enough to rest on his cheeks, and his thick lips part, slack, to let him breathe through his mouth. He’s stunning, even after too many glasses of wine. Felix can’t lose him, and if that means pushing himself out of his comfort zone, then by the goddess, he’s going to do it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anything for Sylvain. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope this is what you had in mind, OP! I ended up writing his past crushes as casual sexual encounters, and I hope that's okay. Awkward sex shenanigans and emotional conversations coming soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Lace Trim</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Felix dresses up for Sylvain, but his plan unravels at his feet.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The least humiliating way to go through with his plan, Felix decides, is to enlist Annette’s help. He would go to Mercedes, but all he can picture is Sylvain juggling her tits and it makes him sick to his stomach, so Annette it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t ask why,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he writes at the end of a casual letter, </span>
  <em>
    <span>but I require a lacy negligee. Can you assist or recommend a source? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her reply is mortifying: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I think it’s sweet that you want to dress up for Sylvain! I’ll have my seamster make something in blue. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And she asks for endless measurements of his body, parts he’s never given much thought before, let alone sized. By sheer luck, the wretched thing arrives while Sylvain is away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For how much it cost him, the slim box is tiny, and there’s hardly any fabric in there beneath the wrapping tissue; just a little puddle of blue and white. Felix lifts part of it by the straps (at least he thinks those are straps) and holds it up to his body. Which end is up?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no way to find out but to try it on. He strips naked in front of the mirror and sighs at his reflection—wearing a bra isn’t going to give him wobbly breasts, but maybe Sylvain will miss them less when he sees Felix’s flat little pecs in lace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too bad he can’t get his pecs in it to see. He loops his arms through the straps and tries to hook the thing in the front, but that results in a ribbon across his nipples and lace on his shoulder blades. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Backwards, you fool,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he chides himself, unhooking the clasp and flipping the bra around. But he doesn’t have enough hands to hook it in the back, so he ends up donning it backwards again (this time without the straps), fastening the clasp, and turning it around so the cups are in the front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a testament to good craftsmanship that he doesn’t rip the thing trying to pull up the straps. Tugging and shimmying it into place doesn’t make it more comfortable, and Felix can’t say he looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>good, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but at least he’s pretty sure he’s got it on right. Navy lace frames his muscles, and he reaches up to cup himself and brush his nipples through the ivory mesh. Shivers travel up his back—fuck, he misses Sylvain—and he takes a moment to trace little circles around the hardening peaks, watching himself in the mirror. He can never tell if he’s being sexy, but his cock is growing, so he must be doing okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls out the next item. It looks like the panties, but he’s confused. One side splits into two narrow ribbons of navy fabric, shaped like a V, and the other side, white with a delicate bow at the top, is wider. Glancing down at his hard cock, he reasons the split must go in the front, because even though he isn’t that big (not as big as Sylvain, that’s for sure) there’s no way he’s going to fit in the wider side. Annette’s seamster must have taken one look at the measurements any thought it a mistake—no one’s ass could be that small. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steps into the panties, but with his dick hanging out the front and the V-straps cutting into his balls, they’re even less comfortable than the bra. Still, they’re just going to come off with Sylvain fucks him, and that thought picks his flagging erection back up. Felix strokes himself, trying to imagine Sylvain’s larger hands wrapped around him, but it’s harder when he sees his own small hands reflected back at him. At least one part of him is feminine. With a squeeze, he abandons his dick for the last pieces of the costume: lacy white thigh-highs trimmed with blue ribbons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he pulls the fabric up his legs, he can’t help but smile. They’re familiar, like a flimsier version of the leg armor he wears in battle. And even in his worst mood, Felix doesn’t mind his legs. The lace hugs his muscles and highlights his definition, and when he catches his reflection, his cock gives a little jump. He runs his hands over the fabric, goosebumps forming as the lace pulls at his hair, and now he can picture Sylvain there behind him, worshiping his legs, that huge cock stiff and wedged between his asscheeks. Felix bends over and widens his stance, one hand still rubbing his thigh while the other goes back to work on his cock. When he closes his eyes, he can hear Sylvain whispering in his ear, “You’re so pretty for me, baby.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words don’t feel right at all, but Felix runs with it. This is what Sylvain wants, so he’s going to have to get used to it. He remembers Sylvain’s allusions to bondage, too—next on his list, but he’ll have to work up to it—and gives his ass a tentative slap. Maybe it’ll feel better when Sylvain does it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, he abandons the fantasy and just jerks himself to completion, careful to avoid staining his new lingerie. Once the mess is clean, he takes one last look in the mirror. Is this what Sylvain wants? Goddess, he hopes so, because otherwise all this suffering is for nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the pain of uncomfortable underwear pales next to the fear of losing Sylvain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he doesn’t feel like himself until the lacy things are all piled back in the box and he’s back in his usual clothes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night before Sylvain’s return, Felix wakes in a cold sweat. He hasn’t touched the negligee since that first time but now it doesn’t seem like enough. It’s still his body in that pretty lace, the same body Sylvain’s grown tired of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a man possessed, Felix charges through the manor. He has no idea what he’s looking for, but he’ll know when he finds it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His quarry lies in the back of the staff closets—a maid’s dress, too low cut and frilly to be practical. He’s not sure why it’s there, but it’s clean and it fits him well enough. Maybe that will be enough to hold Sylvain’s interest, assuming it’s not already too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix takes the costume back to their chambers, but it doesn’t put his mind at ease. A new fear plagues him—what if Sylvain has already strayed? He’s been gone for a week, on a diplomatic mission with little time for dawdling, but if anyone can find time for a tryst, it’s Sylvain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Felix can blame him. Sylvain must go to bed wanting every night—wanting more flesh, more sex, more of everything Felix isn’t. Sleep evades him, and his mind spirals until the door cracks open. Sylvain’s back early. Felix’s heart leaps, but it finds no landing, plummeting deep into his stomach because he’s still not the person Sylvain wants him to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feigning sleep, Felix closes his eyes as Sylvain tiptoes around the room. He can barely hear the rustling of Sylvain stripping off his clothes, but he feels the mattress shift as Sylvain climbs in next to him. There’s no mistaking Sylvain’s warm arms enveloping him, and Felix eases into his embrace. He missed Sylvain, missed this, and when Sylvain kisses Felix’s hair, it’s easier to let himself believe that Sylvain missed him, too. Sleep comes in Sylvain’s arms, but not enough. </span>
</p><p>Felix steals away to the kitchens before Sylvain wakes and has the chef make Sylvain’s favorite breakfast—crepes stuffed with strawberries and peach sorbet. Just the smell turns Felix’s stomach, but he digs into the far reaches of his proper upbringing and arranges a place setting on a silver tray: crepes, compote, and coffee, with sugar and cream on the side because Sylvain sweetens everything. </p><p>
  <span>“Breakfast in bed?” says the chef. “The Margrave is lucky to have a husband like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has no idea how wrong she is. It’s the other way around, but he’ll be lucky to keep Sylvain if he doesn’t get all of this right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dress rehearsal was a good idea, otherwise the coffee would be cold by the time he wrangled his body into the lingerie. It’s just as uncomfortable, but he’s fast, and he throws the dress on top, then pins a frilly trinket in his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tray in hand, he returns to Sylvain, careful not to be seen, and pushes the door open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain stirs at the noise. Without opening his eyes, he says, “Something smells good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a wild second, Felix wants to make his voice higher, but he decides against it. “Welcome home, Sylvain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sleepy smile spreads across Sylvain’s face, and he slowly opens his eyes, and almost falls off the bed. “Fe?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not the reaction Felix was hoping for, so he puts the tray down on the dresser and bends over, pressing his arms together to enhance the cleavage he doesn’t have. “Did you miss me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Sylvain says, voice croaking. He sits up straighter and his eyes roam Felix’s body, more confused than excited. “Your—um, that dress…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not working. Felix has to go bigger. He lifts the ruffles of the skirt to curtesy, flashing his dick, and Sylvain’s eyes bug.</span>
</p><p>That’s better, but he’s not clawing Felix’s clothes off. </p><p>“You hate it,” Felix says, dejected. Of course he doesn’t look good in a dress—Sylvain’s probably thinking of his ex-girlfriend’s ample bosoms and how they filled out dresses and—</p><p>
  <span>“That was my mom’s masqueade costume,” Sylvain blurts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix freezes. He sucks in a breath, nostrils flaring wide, and then he can’t get the dress off fast enough, like it’s burning his skin—he wants to chuck it in the fire, and Sylvain probably wouldn’t mind, but he settles for throwing it across the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa…” Sylvain breaths out, a different kind of shock, and Felix remembers he’s wearing lingerie. “That’s better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deeper, softer, his voice turns Felix on but breaks his heart, too, because it’s confirmation. Sylvain wants soft curves and delicate lace, but if that’s what Felix has to do, then so be it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like it?” Felix asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain climbs out of bed and heads straight for Felix, hands tacking like magnets to his sides. “I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s the clothes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Felix thinks, as Sylvain kisses his lips. He knows it when Sylvain’s fingers slide under the straps of the panties to rub his hips. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>as Sylvain runs his hands up Felix’s chest, over unyielding muscles, the opposite of supple.</span>
</p><p>“Felix.” Sylvain toys with the bra straps. He whispers “touch me” like a plea and Felix realizes he hasn’t moved. </p><p>
  <span>Stiff, jerky, he tries to stroke Sylvain’s back, grabbing the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. It catches hard on Sylvain’s nose, making him hiss in pain, and Felix’s heart sinks lower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Fe,” Sylvain assures him once the shirt is gone. He kisses Felix again and his hands travel lower, to the back of the goddess-forsaken panties, and as he wedges a finger between Felix’s asscheeks through the lace, he begins to chuckle, low at first, but building into something richer. Felix wants to die—not in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to die if I don’t get fucked </span>
  </em>
  <span>way, but of humiliation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s so funny?” Felix snarls, forgoing the sweet act entirely. It’s either snap or cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just love you so much,” Sylvain laughs, sliding his hands into Felix’s panties to pull them even tighter. “But these are backwards, my love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Backwards? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Felix jerks back and looks down to each Sylvain bring his hands around to the front, to the damnable, circulation-killing V. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The split goes in the back so I can fuck your sweet little ass,” Sylvain tells him. He isn’t laughing anymore, but Felix doesn’t feel better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s too humiliated, too confused. “Then where does my dick go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You smoosh it up in the front so it rubs your stomach while I grind on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course Sylvain knows all the ins and outs of this stuff. Nothing’s new to him, and Felix doesn’t know why he bothers. “So you want me to flip them around?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain shakes his head. “Actually, I think you should take them off. All of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That sends Felix’s heart through the floor. Sylvain hates how he looks that much? His face goes hot from embarrassment that he masks with a scowl, but Sylvain just pulls the panties down and rubs soothing fingers over the bright red lines where the fabric did into his balls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love that you did this for me, but the whole point of lingerie is to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel sexy, and you look miserable.”</span>
</p><p>Why wouldn’t he be miserable? Sylvain hates the way he looks. </p><p>
  <span>But Felix can’t deny the relief of having those panties off. Sylvain meets his eyes to unhook the bra—he does it with one hand like some sort of sorcerer and slides the straps down Felix’s shoulders, humming in what sounds like pleasure, almost like he’s unwrapping a gift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s just horny because he’s been gone a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sylvain’s fingers skim the lace trim of the thigh highs, Felix grabs his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These stay on,” he tells Sylvain, firm, eyes dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain’s smile is dark, too; he only smiles like that when he’s about to give it to Felix deep. “There’s my husband.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The welcome stretch of Sylvain’s slick fingers in his ass soothes Felix’s pride, then destroys it when he crooks his hand just right, stroking Felix until he’s leaking, shaking, begging for more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix rolls onto his hands and knees, spine arched so deep it hurts to present his ass once more, and with a harsh breath, Sylvain pushes in all the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So tight…missed you…so good… </span>
  </em>
  <span>Felix only catches words here and there, too focused on Sylvain’s cock piercing his insides and the lace burning his knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix has never demanded it </span>
  <em>
    <span>harder</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but this morning, he does, and Sylvain obeys. If he pounds Felix hard enough, the pain, the insecurity will all melt away, and Felix slams back against him until it’s closer to deep enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna see you, love,” Sylvain calls, but Felix shakes his head wildly. It’s too good like this: Sylvain’s hips flush with his ass, the head of his cock deep in Felix’s gut—then Sylvain grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s too hard but it’s perfect, and Sylvain swallows Felix’s pained hiss because he’s that tall, tall enough to mold his body to Felix’s and kiss his lips while they fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain murmurs an apology into Felix’s mouth and releases his hair to cup his face, tender, but the angle is too much and Felix comes with a cry, untouched until Sylvain collapses on top of him, grinding him down into the bed to ride out the waves of his orgasm against the mattress, soaked in his own come. Sylvain overflows him, hips stuttering through pulse after pulse, and even when Felix feels it dripping out—there’s no room, no one can come this much—Sylvain gives him more, spilling over and over again, hot inside him, down his legs, all the way to the soaked sheets beneath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a long time before either of them can speak, but Sylvain recovers first (he always does), stroking Felix’s hair as he says, “I didn’t touch myself all week, Fe. It’s all for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Felix tries to believe him, but the fear creeps in when Sylvain slips out. His back aches already, and his head stings where Sylvain pulled his hair. It felt good in the moment but now he worries: will Sylvain want it rough every time? Felix promised to die with Sylvain, but he didn’t think the sex would do him in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain is an oblivious puddle of sweet nothings and </span>
  <em>
    <span>are-you-all-rights</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and all Felix can say is, “Your breakfast is cold.”</span>
</p><p>“Worth it,” Sylvain says, pressing soft kisses to Felix’s scalp and rubbing what feels like a healing spell into his back. He sacrifices his own nightshirt to clean Felix up, leaving more kisses on every patch of flesh he dabs. It might have been tender if it didn’t confirm Felix’s fears—this isn’t just the new normal, it’s a new beginning. What’s next? Whips? Chains? Nipple clamps? What is he going to have to do next time to keep Sylvain interested? He shudders and Sylvain pulls him close. </p><p>
  <span>“You sure you're okay?” Felix manages to nod, and Sylvain kisses his cheek and says, “I just want you to feel good, Fe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But no one’s that selfless, not even a man who drinks cold coffee and devours melted sorbet crepes like it’s a gourmet meal, just because his husband brought them to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix isn’t hungry. His mind keeps cycling through his mistakes: the cursed dress, the backwards panties, thinking he could ever keep someone as worldly as Sylvain happy… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain doesn’t mention them, maybe because his mouth is full, or because he’s too busy thinking about boobs. And surely his mind is somewhere else when he gets Felix off again in the bath, because he doesn’t ask for anything in return—nothing more than holding Felix close and stroking his hair. Only a rich fantasy could keep Sylvain at his side all day, sparring without a complaint, helping with the paperwork Felix hates, and serving him handmade cheese gratin for dinner (when Felix’s appetite finally returns). </span>
</p><p>So Felix indulges in a fantasy, too: that Sylvain pampers him because no one makes him happier, no one else satisfies his every desire, and no one else fills his heart, and by the time they curl around each other in bed to sleep and nothing more, Felix almost believes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Poor Felix. He tries so hard when he doesn’t need to try at all. </p><p>One chapter left! Fluffy reassurance coming soon. Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Leather Accents</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Felix goes big and comes home.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Trade talks with Brigid derail the next phase of Felix’s plan, at least until Petra’s leading him and his advisors on a tour of the marketplace and Felix spies a leather shop. He breaks away without telling her why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can get leather in Faerghus, but he’s here so he may as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plus, someone might recognize him back home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell is so intense he can barely stand to be in the shop for more than a few minutes, but at least this stuff is more palatable and familiar than the lingerie he attempted so disastrously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix ends up buying a black corset-like bodice that laces up to the middle of his chest, pants so tight he can barely get them on (but with laces all the way along the crotch so he can fuck in them), elbow-length gloves, and a whip and collar to use on Sylvain because he’s probably into that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he gets back to his guest room in the palace, he tries everything on at once. It’s more like armor so he’s confident he’s wearing it correctly, but even though the pants sit low enough on his hips to reveal his asscrack and the corset leaves his nipples exposed, he doesn’t feel sexy. The thought of hurting Sylvain turns his stomach, but losing Sylvain would be so much worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being without him for weeks at a time is bad enough, and Felix’s mind wanders, yet again, to dark places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if Sylvain isn’t alone right now? What if he’s hired </span>
  <em>
    <span>entertainment</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the night? Oh, who is Felix kidding? Sylvain can get any woman he wants for free. Women who will degrade him and spit on him or whatever it is he wants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leather gloves squeak as Felix makes a tight fist. It’s been over two weeks since he left for Brigid, but he hasn’t touched himself once. Even now in his fetish gear, he can’t bring himself to do it. All he can think about is Sylvain bent over the professor’s knee, getting spanked until his ass is as red as his hair before she shoots Thoron up his hole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix holds the whip and summons his pitiful lightning magic to his other hand. He tried hard back at the academy—the professor said he had a hidden knack for Reason magic, but Felix never got very far with it. Give him a Levin sword over a thunder spell any day, but if this is what Sylvain needs, then he has to try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just hopes it isn’t too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment their party returns to the manor, Felix finds himself swept into his husband’s arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you,” Sylvain murmurs, cupping his face and kissing the top of his head. Felix’s heart feels too big for his chest, so filled with happiness that for a moment, he forgets to worry. He pulls Sylvain’s face down to his for a kiss and he’s home. Tenderly, Sylvain strokes his skin, his hands traveling a well-worn path down Felix’s body, and Felix’s absent sex drive returns with a vengeance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doubts creep in—is Sylvain only being so loving because he’s done something that needs to be forgiven? And if he’s been seeing curvaceous women while Felix is away, how can Felix hope to please him now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we take this upstairs?” Sylvain asks it so low only Felix can hear, as if everyone can’t see them making out.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Felix bites out as Sylvain nibbles his ear. “But I need a minute. I have a surprise for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sylvain draws back, it’s not excitement on his face. It’s concern. Felix’s stomach twists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Felix…” Sylvain squeezes his hand. “You don’t have to do anything special. I just want you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there weren’t so many people around, Felix would tell him it’s different from the last surprise, and that he’s going to put his damn pants on the right way today, but he just shakes his head. “Be patient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve waited three whole weeks, you’re really going to make me wait longer?” Sylvain whines, right in front of everyone. Pulling Felix closer, he squeezes his ass and adds, “My dick is crying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their advisors have all looked away at this point, but they’ve seen and heard too much already. They’re used to it, and they probably wonder how someone as dull as Felix can keep Sylvain entertained. Anger boils up inside Felix and he channels it—it’s what Sylvain needs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs Sylvain by the collar of his shirt, rough enough to jar him. “Just you wait,” he snarls. “I’ll give your dick something to cry about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain pales. He swallows, an honest to goodness gulp, and Felix casts him off. It’s supposed to be a game, right? That’s how this works: Felix pretends to hate Sylvain and Sylvain pretends to be scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes ages to change into his leather gear, and Felix’s arousal evaporates as he tightens the laces over his dick. His bodice makes it hard to breathe, but it’s worth the pain. The gloves come last and by then his sweat makes it hard to put them on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a knock at the door. “Felix? Can we talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Sylvain. Talking sounds even less sexy than Felix feels, but he grabs his whip and flings the door to their quarters open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain’s jaw almost hits the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so impatient,” Felix growls. “Get on the bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain looks more worried than horny, but maybe it’s part of the act. “What is going on with you, Felix?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on with me?” Felix summons a cruel laugh. “I should be asking you! Where do I even begin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands held up in front of him, Sylvain tiptoes into the room like he’s trying to negotiate with an insurgent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix cracks the whip into the air before Sylvain can say anything. His other hand crackles with electricity, sparking a trail of unpleasant goosebumps up his arm to the back of his neck. He’s not sure what sort of pain Sylvain likes so he may as well try them all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa!” Sylvain ducks and covers his head with his hands. “Let’s talk about this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Talk. Right. Verbal pain. Insult him. Felix takes as deep of a breath as he can in the corset. The corset Sylvain hasn’t so much as glanced at because  Felix doesn’t have anything to show off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to talk? Fine. You were a dick when we were growing up,” Felix tells him, digging into reserves of the anger he came to terms with years ago. “You used women to keep your cock warm, you didn’t listen when I told you I didn’t want to be part of your debauchery, and you never apologized for any of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain’s eyes go wide. “Felix?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shirked your training to get your dick wet, and you’re still lazy now.” Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but Felix is supposed to be mean. He tries to find more recent grievances to fuel the flames. “You trim your toenails in bed, you waste food, and you smell atrocious in the mornings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Felix, if you would just listen to me—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But if Felix listens, then Sylvain will tell him how this isn’t working, how boring and flat and disgusting Felix is, and how tiring their marriage has become. Felix can’t. He won’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve slept with so many women, women with big, bouncing tits and fat asses, and I don’t want to think about it anymore!” Felix doesn’t need the whip when his words hurt this much. It falls to the floor and his lightning fizzles, but he can’t abate the sting of what he has to say next: “I don’t even know why we got married!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain opens and closes his mouth a few times and Felix braces himself. Another failure—his worst yet. Felix can’t even insult Sylvain right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He expects the end. He expects Sylvain to say he’s running off to find the bustiest girl who can dominate him properly. He expects a ring thrown at him in disgust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t get what he expects</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears come from nowhere and stream down Sylvain’s face, pouring from his eyes like waterfalls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Felix,” Sylvain chokes out, even though Felix didn’t even get to the collar. “I didn’t know you were so unhappy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix wants to say something but his heart stopped the moment Sylvain started crying and his throat is too dry to talk. All he can do is stare at the fat droplets running down Sylvain’s cheeks. It’s not a game; it never was, and Felix feels like he swallowed gravel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, Felix, because I’m so happy and I thought you were too,” Sylvain says through his sobs. “But if you’re not getting what you want out of our marriage, our sex life…I’m so sorry I didn’t notice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a moment for Felix to process, but when it hits him, he recoils. “If </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>not happy? You’re the one who wants more out of our marriage!”</span>
</p><p>Sylvain snorts, but it’s just because there’s a glob of snot running down his chin. “What gave you that idea? You’re all I ever wanted, Felix, and I’ve never been happier in my life!”</p><p>
  <span>No. No, that can’t be right. How can Sylvain be happy when Felix isn’t anything like the girls he used to date? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s about sex—if you want to try some harder stuff, we can, but shit, Felix, we need to talk about it first!” Sylvain sits down on the bed and wipes his face on his sleeve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t!” Felix admits, and he still feels sick but it feels good to say it. “I thought this was what </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted! I thought you were bored with me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bored?!” Sylvain shakes his head indignantly, like the very idea offends him. “I love our sex life. I don’t want to change a thing unless it’s what you—” He stops mid-sentence, mouth hanging open. “Hold on. Is that what you were trying to do with the dress? The lingerie? All this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shame heats Felix’s face and he nods. “I figured you just hated the way I looked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Sylvain’s eyebrows crinkle like he’s offended. “You’re so strong and sexy—you’re perfect, Felix. But I just can’t get turned on when you look so uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix blinks. Come to think of it, Sylvain did say something like that last time. He gestures at his outfit and asks. “Do you want me to be comfortable like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Felix…” Squeezing his eyes shut, Sylvain goes on. “If you ever want to try something new, all you need to do is say the word and we’ll try it. I promise I’ll tell you if I get the urge to explore something, too, but you don’t have to push yourself to please me. I love you just the way you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix wants to believe it. Sylvain’s crying smaller tears now, like the ones he shed at their wedding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today is the first time Felix has seen him cry since. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I do to make you think I wasn’t happy?” Sylvain asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix sighs and looks down at his gloved hands. “That night after we got back from the Sreng talks, we got drunk and you told me about all the girls you slept with back at the monastery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain gasps, then he rakes a hand through his hair. “I forgot all about that. I was so drunk that night I couldn’t spell my own name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t change what you said,” Felix mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Sylvain says with a wince. “I was probably a real ass about it, huh? I mean, you know about my past, but I doubt you wanted to know the details.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A perverse, sick part of Felix did want to know everything, but it feels like a lifetime ago now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Felix sits down next to him on the bed, leather pants creaking. The laces pinch his balls. “It sounded like you miss it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss it?” Sylvain turns to Felix and takes one of his gloved hands. “Felix, I was miserable then. I hated myself and everyone around me, and sex was just another way to ruin my life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t that Felix forgot how careless Sylvain had been back then. Sylvain slept around with abandon, but Felix assumed Mercedes, Dorothea, and Byleth were different. Like there was something about them or their bodies that made it better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sex didn’t mean anything, and all those girls knew it, too.” Sylvain heaves a sigh. “It happened, but I would never want to go back to that. Sex with you is just...it’s something else, Felix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounds like he’s trying to explain the mysteries of the universe. Felix doesn’t get it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even though we don’t experiment or use lightning magic or—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Felix!” Sylvain grabs him by his shoulders. “Don’t you see? I did all that stuff to try to feel something, and none of it worked. But with you, I don’t have to try. I feel everything. I didn’t even know sex could be like that before you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes Felix’s breath away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain’s always been good at talking when Felix can’t. “Marrying you was the best thing I’ve ever done. I don’t regret a thing, because you’re the love of my life.” He’s still holding Felix, but there’s an arm’s length of space between them, and Sylvain asks, “Can I hug you now?” </span>
</p><p>Tears prickle the corners of Felix’s eyes, and he answers by throwing his arms around Sylvain. Sylvain pulls him to his chest. </p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Felix whispers. “I didn’t mean it when I said I don’t know why we got married, and I’m sorry. I thought…” He hangs his head, burying it in Sylvain’s broad chest. “Well, you know what I thought.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s okay.” The leather squeaks under Sylvain's fingers as he strokes Felix’s back. “No one else would go this far to try to make me happy. But you know what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix pulls back to look at him. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the best I’ve ever had.” Sylvain doesn't even blink when he says it, just holds Felix’s gaze so intensely Felix can’t breathe (though that might be the corset). “Did I make that clear earlier? Because no one else even comes close to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard to believe. Felix is far more bold and coordinated in battle than he is in bed. He’s not a great husband, either: he’s grouchy, he doesn’t put much effort into his appearance, and he’s prone to doubts and insecurity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then again, he did try crossdressing and sadomasochism all for Sylvain. Neither kink did anything for him, but it doesn’t matter. He loves Sylvain and Sylvain loves him, and more than that, they trust each other. They always have. </span>
</p><p>How could Felix have taken that for granted?</p><p>
  <span>“Now how about I get you out of this corset?” Sylvain suggests, tracing a single finger along the top seam. </span>
</p><p>“Fuck, yes,” Felix murmurs, leaning into his touch. </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Sylvain slides his hands down the bodice and undoes the knot at the bottom. Rivet by rivet, he unlaces the corset, each row unraveling another piece of Felix’s heart. Relief like Felix has never known floods his chest when it’s fully loosened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain peels the corset off and tosses it to the floor, murmuring, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, Felix…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> when his eyes land on the red welts it left on Felix’s waist. Kisses soothe them, hot on Felix’s sweaty skin but he doesn’t want Sylvain to stop. Sylvain kneads his waist, his back, adjusting pressure and position by the sound of Felix’s soft moans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain moves lower, to where the leather pants cinch Felix’s hips. The laces feel even tighter now that Felix is enjoying himself, and Sylvain strokes the seam with his thumb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighs won’t cut it anymore, and Felix gasps Sylvain’s name. Grinning, Sylvain seizes the laces and begins to unwind them, pulling the leather cord over Felix’s cock agonizingly slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe these pants aren’t the worst thing in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The seam finally splits, and then all Felix can feel is Sylvain’s breath on his cock, his balls, his ass. Every gentle kiss Sylvain lays there is a test of Felix’s patience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix fails, but Sylvain keeps them fleeting, opting to slide the pants down instead. Felix lays back on the bed, both disappointed and grateful as Sylvain rolls the tight leather off of his legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t ever think you aren’t the most beautiful creature on this planet,” Sylvain says, his lips on Felix’s bare thigh. “And don’t leave for so long again,” he goes on, trailing kisses lower as he reveals more skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won't,” Felix promises. He hated every second away, and now he knows Sylvain did, too. “Not unless you come with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anywhere.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain’s lips tickle Felix’s toes and Felix laughs before casting a hand over his face to hide it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare,” Sylvain scolds him. “I need to see your smile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, lowering his arm makes Felix feel more naked than his lack of clothes, but when Sylvain smiles back, his inhibitions melt away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix props himself up on his elbows to watch as Sylvain molds his hands to his calves. “I love your legs,” Sylvain says, sliding back up Felix’s body. “It's like you’re a living, breathing marble sculpture. I dreamed about your thighs while you were away, wrapped around my head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice has Felix arching off the bed, every touch, every word adding more oil to the fire inside of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain takes advantage of his raised hips, scooping him up from beneath to hold him by his bony ass. “Finest ass in all of Fódlan,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix knows it isn’t true, but Sylvain believes it and that’s enough—too much when Sylvain buries his face in it and sucks a kiss into his rim. It almost makes Felix come on the spot, his cock jumping as Sylvain pulls off with a wet smack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you did miss me after all,” Sylvain says, smiling at Felix from behind his cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Been waiting for you,” Felix manages to gasp out. “The whole time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wide brown eyes blink up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Sylvain says, “you didn’t even touch yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard for Felix to shake his head because he’s still so wound up from the ten second rimjob. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t come in a month?!” Sylvain looks at him like he’s grown a second head and Felix wants to bury his face again, but he forces himself to stay exposed. Vulnerable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s safe here, at home with Sylvain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Sylvain…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shock on Sylvain’s face fades at Felix’s plea. Sylvain knows what he’s asking for, what he needs, and he lowers Felix to the bed, running his hands down Felix’s ass to his thighs once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make it up to you,” Sylvain says, caressing Felix’s hips, his waist, his stomach and the fading marks. “One for every single day we were apart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sylvain!” Felix gasps as Sylvain’s mouth closes around one of his nipples. But he doesn’t want to just lie back and take it—that’s how he got into this mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cries go unheeded and he tries to get up, to undress Sylvain, but Sylvain is too busy giving him exactly what he needs and loving every minute, sucking and licking and biting, and when he grasps the other nipple in his hand, Felix might just—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I?” Sylvain pulls away and the loss would be crushing were it not for his low voice, reverberating from his ribcage to Felix’s stomach where they’re pressed together, tempting Felix to give in. Softer, Sylvain says, “You worked so hard for me. Let me do this for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Felix gasps, because Sylvain wants it so badly and just the brush of fingers on his ribs is incredible. Felix is already so close to coming he can’t possibly hold out any longer, but he makes up his mind. He’s going to hold out as long as he can. It’s been almost a month—he can wait a little longer. And when he finally does come, with Sylvain’s cock deep inside him, well. May the Goddess have mercy on both of their souls (and their bedsheets).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you wish,” says Sylvain. Not for the first time, he drags his thumbs over the grooves of Felix’s chest, rubbing his muscles with reverent hands and fervent devotion. The difference is this time Felix believes him. He believes it when Sylvain says, “You’re perfect, Felix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being exalted isn’t the worst thing in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain nudges Felix’s arm out of the way to make an opening for himself and kisses a path up Felix’s side. “Perfect here,” he whispers, then repeats it when his kisses reach the scars on Felix’s bicep. He says it again at the inside Felix’s elbow before he sinks his teeth into the hem of one glove, the last scraps of clothing on Felix’s body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s so erotic that Felix cries his name out again, and his cock throbs in response. If he comes from this, he’ll never live it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Felix scolds himself, focusing on Sylvain’s touch instead. This—their love, their marriage—is forever, and what’s the point of shame on that kind of timeline?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain certainly doesn’t have any.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I touched myself most nights you were gone,” Sylvain says. “Thinking about your face, picturing your body, smelling your clothes...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That curls Felix’s back and pulls a moan from his throat, and all Sylvain’s doing is taking his other glove off. Felix can’t come from this, he can hold out longer, he can...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He comes the moment Sylvain takes two of his fingers into his mouth. It’s too late by the time Felix realizes it—he’s splattering his own abdomen while Sylvain sucks on his damn fingers like a confection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Felix still wants—he can tell this isn’t even half of what’s inside him—and Sylvain still wants to give. He pulls off of Felix’s fingers, leaving them slick and shining, and pushes up to lie down at Felix’s side, face to face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain swipes one of his own fingers through the mess on Felix’s stomach. He licks his own come-covered finger like it’s candied, too, and says, “That’s one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be a shithead,” Felix says, even as his still hard cock twitches at the display. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Felix.” Sylvain presses a sloppy kiss to Felix’s cheek. “You knew what you were getting into when you married me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix did, and fondly, he tells him so. Then he adds, “Don’t stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain doesn’t. He shifts from Felix’s cheek to his ear, licking the shell of it—a little aftershock rocks Felix, but he keeps his hips on the bed this time. Lower, Sylvain moves, to swirl tiny patterns on his neck and trace by tongue the sharp lines of his shoulder. He climbs on top of Felix but hovers carefully above him, no contact between their bodies except for his tongue in the hollow where Felix’s clavicles meet. Sylvain laps at it until that urgent heat starts to rise in Felix again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix can’t, </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> come from this; tries to think of the corset, the infernal panties, anything but the flick of Sylvain’s tongue on his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Sylvain plays dirty. He places his hands, painfully absent since he set out on his mission, on Felix’s chest. All it takes is one squeeze, one drag of palms over nipples and Felix comes again, splashing Sylvain this time, but it’s still not the release Felix craves. It’s like half an orgasm, maybe less, and his balls ache with need.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sylvain,” he begs, “it’s not—you have to fuck me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Sylvain just smiles at him and says, “Two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty-two days, Felix was gone, and he barely survived it; twenty-two orgasms would undoubtedly kill him. It’s impossible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain sucks what will certainly turn into little purple marks on his neck and shoulders—“You can wear that turtleneck, but I’ll know what’s underneath,” he says—rubbing Felix’s chest all the while. Felix feels charged, like his lightning magic went haywire inside him and he could get shocked at any second. Maybe even combust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain’s thumbs turn circles on his nipples and it almost happens, but Felix bites his lip to stave it off, so hard he tastes blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't hold back,” Sylvain urges him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might be easier if you took your clothes off,” Felix chokes out. “Let me see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On second thought, hold back all you want, I’ve got all day.” There’s something about the way Sylvain says it—that lazy, carefree tone that goes right to Felix’s dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he pinches Felix’s nipples and Felix comes again, a pitiful squirt that drips down his cock. Felix lets out a grunt, more frustrated than relieved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he says through his teeth. “Every time I come, you have to take something off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That stops Sylvain mid-nipple twist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Felix…” It's almost a moan. “You’re brilliant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three things,” snaps Felix. “Catch up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a foolproof strategy, because Sylvain isn’t wearing twenty-two items of clothing and once he gets naked, he won’t be able to resist sticking his dick in. He never can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix just hopes he has something left when he finally gets Sylvain inside of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, that’s fair,” says Sylvain, releasing Felix’s nipples to take off his socks, “One and two,” because he’s a dick, and then his shirt. Just his broad, freckled chest is a welcome sight, and Felix’s cock throbs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It shouldn’t turn Felix on when Sylvain dips down to his stomach and licks at some of the come drying there, but it does. Sylvain tastes Felix’s navel, too, rolling the tip of his tongue around it in little circles that wind Felix tighter and tighter, but it’s like hitting a wall. It’s not enough to make him come, at least not like he needs to, and Sylvain refuses to do the things that will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix groans and spreads his legs like a giant hint, but Sylvain just grasps him by the hips, tracing his bones in light strokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not doing it for you?” Sylvain asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you really think it would?” Felix fires back, like he didn’t just come from Sylvain sucking on his fingers, among other things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s working for me,” Sylvain replies, sweeping his thumbs down into the junction between Felix’s hips and legs. “Do you even know what your body does to me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would if you took your pants off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Sylvain says, lifting one finger to waggle in a taunt. “Not until you come again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s so close to Felix’s dick now. If he put his hands or his mouth on it, Felix might get something closer to the release he craves, but Sylvain seems content to just look at it. Right now it’s hard and covered with come of varying degrees of freshness, and Felix grabs Sylvain’s discarded shirt and wipes himself before Sylvain can stop him. The friction on his cock almost gets him, and it’s not a bad idea, jerking himself off just to get Sylvain to remove his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Felix wants Sylvain to get him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trying to tell me something?” Sylvain asks, eyes following the wobble of Felix’s cock as he tosses the shirt on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suck it,” says Felix—and it strikes him that this is the kind of thing he should have said when he had the whip out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I haven’t sucked on your toes yet,” Sylvain pouts. “They do things to me, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix draws his knee to his chest and plants his foot in Sylvain’s face, meaning to kick him off. He should have counted on Sylvain’s tongue pressed flat against his instep because that’s what he gets, followed by quick strokes up and down his foot, swirling between his toes until his legs twitch and his groin tingles and oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Felix is going to come again, isn’t he?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Sylvain</span>
  <em>
    <span>.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Anger simmers beneath Felix’s skin, and he punches out his husband’s name as his hips thrust into nothing. Barely anything comes out, and he glares at Sylvain expectantly. He’s never felt this before—release without relief—and his balls ache from the inside out, like he hasn’t come at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s four,” says Sylvain, gingerly lowering Felix’s foot to the bed. He stands, swaying his hips in a striptease as he lowers his pants—he’s wearing nothing underneath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That alone sends a ripple through Felix (which doesn’t count). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to be ready for you,” Sylvain says, fully nude before him. “No matter how many times I got off without you, it wasn’t enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about it,” Felix groans, digging his hips helplessly into the mattress. Out of self-preservation, he hasn’t given much thought to the persistent emptiness that’s plagued him all these weeks, but it surges to the surface once he locks eyes on Sylvain’s dick. He needs it inside of him or else he’s going to die, and he certainly won’t make it through another dozen pitiful orgasms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Sylvain drops to his knees and pulls Felix to the edge of the bed by his legs. “I can never deny you,” he swears before swallowing Felix’s cock whole, or at least that’s how it feels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An obscene moan claws up Felix’s throat as he comes yet again, a spurt down Sylvain’s throat that barely takes the edge off. Sylvain doesn’t stop, sucking in his cheeks and propelling himself up and down Felix’s shaft. He’s braced on the bed with one hand, but when Felix cranes his neck he knows exactly what Sylvain’s other hand is up to. Just like he thought—Sylvain can’t resist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do that,” Felix bites out as the tide rises again, on the edge of cresting as Sylvain forcefully works his tongue. “Save it for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain moans around him but lifts his hand from his cock. He’s holding up five fingers, one for every time he’s brought Felix off, and Felix has half a mind to squeeze Sylvain’s head between his thighs. It wouldn’t be a punishment, and that’s what stops him, but he regrets holding back when Sylvain pulls all the way off to tongue at Felix’s slit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s his weak spot (one of many) and it doesn’t take much before Felix is yelling and painting Sylbain’s tongue white. Whether it’s another orgasm or if it’s just the same one, drawn out in fits and spurts, Felix can’t be sure, but Sylvain releases the bed to hold up another finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a roll of his eyes, Felix digs his heels into Sylvain’s shoulders to push him off. Sylvain stumbles back while Felix rolls over, rearing up and presenting his ass. “The next time I come I want it to be on your cock,” he demands. “Fuck me </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain shudders so hard Felix hears the shake in the ragged gasp he lets out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-right,” Sylvain says, and catching him off guard is more satisfying than any of the orgasms Felix has had so far, even if it’s just as short-lived. Steadier, Sylvain adds,“But if I ever hear you say you’re boring again, I’m going to fuck that nonsense right out of your mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix almost says it just to make him deliver, but then Sylvain plunges two slick fingers into his ass and words are no longer an option. It’s no small stretch—they’ve been apart too long, and maybe Sylvain forgot that Felix hasn’t been keeping himself in fucking shape—but it’s a good stretch, one that reduces Felix to monosyllablic grunts. Sylvain’s fingers are that much closer to what he really needs, and it’s only that need that keeps him from exploding (although all the miniature explosions leading up to this moment might have something to do with it).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you,” Sylvain repeats as he thrusts another finger in. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix hopes Sylvain understands his garbled response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He must, because he talks where Felix can’t—“You ready?”—and spreads his fingers wider. Felix is and he isn’t; he’s sure he’s going to come the moment Sylvain pushes into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain draws his fingers out. All Felix knows is his own pulse and the scratch of the sheets beneath his hands and knees. He counts the seconds: one, two, three…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four and he’s full, then he’s coming, a pulsating force from deep inside him. It’s Sylvain’s precision, the kind that only comes from fucking the same person for years, from knowing each other so completely, and maybe that’s what pulls Sylvain over the edge, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe it’s just that Felix is so damn tight and they missed each other so damn much, but whatever it is, Sylvain is filling him with cock and come, calling his name and squeezing his hips before Felix even has a chance to get used to his size.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not done,” Sylvain says between heavy breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Because neither is Felix. Pent up energy still prickles under his skin, but now there’s a goal in sight; it’s possible, if Sylvain would only move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Sylvain curls around Felix’s back, panting in exhaustion even though he’s still hard. “Gimme a minute,” comes puffed into Felix’s ear, and that’s satisfying, too, because Felix is definitely ready now. </span>
</p><p>Gently, he grinds backwards, drawing moans out of Sylvain with every little rock of his hips. Sylvain pulls himself up, one hand on the small of Felix’s back, and exhales hard. </p><p>
  <span>That’s all the warning Felix needs.</span>
</p><p>Sylvain snaps his hips forward and it feels like fate. He wasn’t even fully in before, but he is now, deep and familiar like they’re made to connect, pumping hard enough to shake the bed. It should make Felix come, and any other night it would, because this is how he likes to be fucked and this is how Sylvain likes to fuck him.</p><p>
  <span>But Felix gets it now, feels it in the way Sylvain caresses his hips, hears it in whispers of his name as Sylvain fills him again and again. The past ceases to exist when they’re together, only this moment, here and now and so much more than the raw slap of skin on skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re hitting that good, deep angle that makes Felix drool when he decides they aren’t close enough. Any other night they can fuck fast and ruthless, but it’s not what Felix needs right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All it takes is a little push and pull and Sylvain reads his mind, cradling Felix as they roll onto their sides and a little beyond so Felix can press his back into Sylvain’s chest and push their mouths together for kiss after tender kiss. Sylvain wraps his arms around Felix’s chest, thrusts slowing to sweeping circles of his hips that Felix meets with ease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no one else in the world; just the two of them, one in body and mind, and this finally soothes the burn, the need that’s been crawling beneath Felix’s skin and keeping him on edge for months. Everything inside him unravels like laces undone, and when Sylvain’s hand settles low on his belly, a new, burgeoning heat follows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix claims Sylvain’s hand with his own, pressing it down into his own body as he arches his hips to better meet Sylvain’s. Sounds seep into their kiss, moans and sighs, though they dare not break contact. Their movements pick up speed—focused, not frenzied—and Felix pulls his leg to his chest so Sylvain’s shallow thrusts hit a little deeper. </span>
</p><p>Felix opens his eyes to find Sylvain staring back at him, and they both know when it’s perfect. Sylvain’s cock rubs Felix just right, and Felix pulls tight around Sylvain exactly where he needs the pressure. </p><p>
  <span>It starts in Felix’s fingers and toes and rolls through his limbs, like the pleasure lives in his very blood, building in slow surges until it reaches his vital, vulnerable center. His orgasm pulls him apart piece by piece, and every time Felix thinks he’s peaking, he climbs higher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the best climax of Felix’s life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He holds onto it like he holds Sylvain’s hand in his, and only when he feels Sylvain pulsing inside him does he let go. The pleasure fades like it came, only in reverse, washing over him from the inside out. There’s no crash, just a soft landing together, breathing as one. </span>
</p><p>Sylvain breaks the kiss only to resume it on Felix’s cheek. “You’re covered,” he chuckles, and Felix looks down. </p><p>
  <span>No wonder he feels so peaceful. The physical block was as big as the mental one, and he’s made a mess all over his stomach and their joined hands. He'd been so focused on Sylvain and their connection that he hadn’t noticed the flood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was already pretty gross. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain isn’t laughing anymore, but he’s still nuzzling Felix’s face with his nose. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m so sorry I gave you reason to doubt how much I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t give me a reason,” Felix groans as the memories rush back. “I was being stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain holds him tighter. He’s still inside Felix, but he’s going soft. It’s comforting. “You were just trying to make me happy. I don’t deserve you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop that,” Felix tells him, turning to kiss him again. “If we got what we deserved, we’d both be dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose that’s fair,” says Sylvain. He picks up Felix’s hand and brings it to his lips, come and all. “But I love you, bloody hands and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yours are just as bloody.” Felix narrows his eyes at the sticky white globs, way too close to his face. “And disgusting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I think we turned out all right,” Sylvain says, lowering their hands to the bed and licking his lips. “But there’s no one I’d rather have gone through it with than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s right. Growing up, the academy, the war, everyone they’d lost and everything they’d gained—Felix wouldn’t trade a second of it. Not even the low points, because he’s here with Sylvain now, deeper in love than he ever thought he could be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think a hot bath is in order.” Sylvain releases Felix’s hand and stretches, his body taking up most of the bed. Felix missed that, too: the space Sylvain occupies. When he pulls out, there’s no loss, only a lingering stretch and bone-deep satisfaction. </span>
</p><p>Now that he’s unwound, the travel catches up with Felix all at once, and a bath sounds divine. </p><p>
  <span>Sylvain shifts Felix to the mattress and rises from bed. “I’ll draw it for you,” he says as he walks to the adjoined bathing chamber. “And I’ll join you if you like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a given,” Felix says, though he’s glad for the chance to lie in bed a moment longer. “I’m not sick of you yet, Sylvain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did I get so lucky?” Sylvain laughs to himself, and then Felix hears him pouring water. Heating a bath is the only time he uses his magic these days but Felix knows he’s happier channeling it into something so mundane and comforting than he ever was in combat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the same for Felix. After what they’ve lived through, he craves the stable and familiar, because that’s where the true magic lies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence falls and the bath is ready. Felix drags himself out of bed to join Sylvain in the tub, reclining on his chest once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten,” says Sylvain as he washes Felix’s chest in idle strokes. “That was only eight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix goes taut. “Sylvain, I can’t, there’s nothing—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gentle finger silences his lips. “Neither can I. But later…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain’s voice runs hotter than the bath, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>later</span>
  </em>
  <span> feels that much sooner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just didn’t want you to think I was going back on my vow,” Sylvain says, replacing his finger with his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix kisses him softly. “You would never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he believes it, too. Be it a death pact, a marriage vow, or just a stupid boast, when it comes to Felix, Sylvain always keeps his promises.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter really got out of hand. It was supposed to be sweet sex but then it turned into outlandish marathon makeup sex with eight consecutive orgasms. Ah well, it happens! Sorry the conclusion took so long, but I hope it was worth the wait!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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